CHAPTER THIRTY
Max had missed his calling. He should have been a nurse, not a movie star. He’d fetched and carried for her all evening, doing everything but cutting her meat. With the gigantic boot on her leg she was terribly awkward, making it difficult to do even the simplest of tasks. There was one thing it didn’t impede and that was eating. She’d scarfed down the pizza they’d ordered in no time.
There was a movie playing on the huge television on the wall but Carrie wasn’t all that interested. She couldn’t seem to get into a comfortable position on the couch and going to bed with a good book sounded like an excellent option. But one question had hung in the air all night like a neon sign in her favorite watering hole back in Florida.
Would she be in that bed alone?
More than likely, no. He’d said he intended to help her bathe although he might have been pulling her leg, which would be cruel considering she had an injured one. She wanted a shower or bath desperately, having been baptized with buckets of rain water earlier in the day plus the grime she’d picked up on the city pavement. There was something about being freshly clean when she slid between the sheets. It was a primal feeling that she never got tired of. It required, however, Max’s cooperation.
The man that was currently dominating her thoughts reached for the empty ice cream bowl sitting in her lap. “More? I think I have biscuits—I mean, cookies—as well.”
Patting her stomach, she handed him her dishes. Turns out he was domestic too, cleaning up the kitchen and dirty dishes while she relaxed.
“I’m stuffed, thank you. But…”
Pausing on the way to the kitchen, Max waited for her to continue.
Crap. I could just go to bed dirty. But…ewww.
“I was wondering…if maybe…you could help me take a bath? I feel filthy after rolling around on your London sidewalks.”
To his credit, he didn’t give her the wolfish smile she’d seen in the past. Simply nodding his head in assent, his expression solemn. “Whatever you need. Just let me tidy up the kitchen.”
The image of Max elbows deep in suds was doing strange things to Carrie’s libido. A man was never more attractive than when he was cleaning or cooking. Unless it was holding a baby. That blew everything else out of the water. Maxwell Hayes with a child in his arms would simply not be fair to womankind.
It didn’t take him long to finish whatever he was doing in the kitchen. “Are you ready?”
“More than ready. I just want to curl up in bed with a good book.”
She wasn’t in any condition to curl up with Max. Was she?
Throwing off the blanket, she sat up but before she could swing her legs down to the floor, Max had bent over and scooped her into his arms bridal style.
“Hold on, love. We’re going upstairs.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. He’d carried her to the taxi from the hospital and then into the house but it hadn’t involved dizzying heights. Burying her face in his neck so she couldn’t look down, she tried to pretend she was lighter than she actually was, although he didn’t appear winded at all.
He settled her onto the long bathroom vanity. “I know you said you wanted a bath but getting in and out of the tub might be problematic and slippery even with me lifting you. I’d suggest a shower. You can sit on the seat and be comfortable.”
Carrie had pictured herself sitting in bubbles but he had a point. Getting in and out of that tub was going to be a bitch and a half even with him lending the muscle. She didn’t want to put the poor man into traction.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.”
Max stripped his t-shirt off and tossed it aside. “Excellent.”
Eyes wide, Carrie held up her hand. “Whoa there, Hamlet. What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer, instead shooting a question back at her. “How are you planning to get in the shower?”
Studying the path from here to there, she considered her options. “I’ll take off the boot and hop over there.”
He crossed his arms over his extremely attractive chest. “On a floor that might be wet? That doesn’t sound all that safe, does it?”
No, it didn’t but for some reason she was feeling self-conscious, which was incredibly stupid. He’d seen – and touched – every part of her last night and this morning. But while it was one thing to get an eyeful during sex it was something else entirely during the clinical process of being hygienic.
Dropping her gaze to her toes, she swung her good leg back and forth nervously. “I’m a little shy.”
His sock-clad feet appeared in her view and his fingers lifted her chin so she was looking up into those crystal clear blue eyes. “Shy? Whatever for? I’ve seen what you have as you’ve seen me too.”
And it had been glorious.
She shrugged, heart suffusing her cheeks. “I know it’s silly but this… It’s different.”
Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers, light as a feather. “Please let me help you, Carrie. I know I’m difficult and grouchy but I swear that I can take good care of you if you’ll let me.”
The lump in her throat wouldn’t let her speak so she simply nodded. He gave her a triumphant smile before stepping back and stripping off the rest of his clothes, which ended up in a heap on the tile floor. Completely unconcerned about his nudity, he twisted the water on in the huge shower stall.
Damn, he looks good.
“Now let’s get you undressed.” He knelt down, his fingers going to the Velcro ties on the boot. “Should we start here?”
“It’s as good a place as any,” she said, plucking the buttons on her blouse until it fell open. Taking off the boot wasn’t as uneventful as she’d expected, however. Pain shot up to her knee as he set it aside but then it subsided. It was just like earlier on the sidewalk. Don’t move and it won’t hurt.
“I saw you wince. Are you okay? Should I get your pain medication?”
Shaking her head, she shrugged off her blouse. “I’ll take some when I get in bed. It just hurt for a moment when you took the pressure off the ankle.”
Max took the blouse from her hands and carefully folded it and placed it on the hamper lid. Next came her jeans which was a bigger deal but with his help easily dealt with. The lone sock on her left foot followed. Now she was only clad in her bra and panties, a fact that Max seemed to appreciate. His warm gaze roved all over her body and her skin tingled in response.
He hadn’t even touched her. Yet.
Reaching for the butterfly clasp between her breasts, Carrie unclipped it and pulled it away, her nipples puckering in the cool air. She set it on top of the neatly stacked pile of clothes before reaching down for her panties but his hands had made it there first. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband and tugged them down as his other arm lifted her bottom off of the vanity, his rough skin skimming her sensitive flesh all the way to her toes. The scrap of red satin joined the rest of her clothes, almost like the cherry on top of a silk and lace hot fudge sundae.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes locked with his.
“You’re welcome.”
His voice was husky with a desire that his naked body couldn’t hide. His cock was at full attention and she had to drag her fascinated gaze away from it. Staring wasn’t polite.
She tried not to squirm too much when he lifted her into his arms and placed her in the shower, setting her down on the tiled seat. The steam and hot water felt heavenly and she immediately felt her muscles loosen and the tension she’d been carrying in her neck and shoulders dissolve.
“This is one fancy shower, Hamlet.” Her gaze took in the multiple showerheads at different heights. There was even a handheld near where she was sitting. “And big too. We could fit three or four more people in here.”
Sticking his head under one of the sprays from the ceiling, his throaty laugh echoed in the space. “Who would we invite? I think this is a party just for two. Now let’s get you all scrubbed up.”
“I don’t need any he–”
“Nonsense.” He waved away her objections and knelt down, squeezing a bit of body wash into his palm. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the more you move the more it hurts, yes?”
Shit, she couldn’t argue with her own logic.
“Yes, but I can still bathe myself.”
Picking up her uninjured left foot, he braced it against his chest. “I’m sure you can but I’m here to help you. Now stay still like a good girl.”
Easier said than done. His large hands were sliding up and down her leg, each stroke coming closer and closer to her core. His fingers brushed the sensitive flesh of her mound before gliding back down to her toes, scrupulously washing between each one. By the time he finished with her left leg, she was almost a puddle on the tiled shower flower, ready to slide down the drain and into the mysterious London pipe system. Would she end up in the Thames?
Max picked up the handheld showerhead and rinsed her limb, giving his wrist a twist when he arrived at the top of her thighs so the spray ran over her already swollen clit. Carrie gasped at the sensation and would have jerked sideways but he was thinking far ahead of her befuddled mind. His hand had wrapped around her knee, bracing it against his hips so she couldn’t jar it or herself.
“Jumpy, aren’t you?” he said with an evil grin. “One might think you’re…aroused.”
“Asshole,” she said just loud enough for him to hear. “You might want to look in a mirror.”
Glancing down, he seemed unperturbed by the turgid state of his impressive manhood.
“And?”
“Well, you’re…” Her toes grazed the base of his cock. “Aroused too. Doesn’t it…hurt?”
“I’m getting used to being hard around you all the time. I’ve pretty much had a hard-on since the day I met you.”
She remembered Thanksgiving all too well.
“Bullshit. You were drunk as a skunk when you came to Paige’s house for Thanksgiving and you certainly didn’t notice me in that way.”
His smile widened, showing off even white teeth. “That’s where you were wrong. I was contemplating a shag when I saw your engagement ring. It put a real damper on my plans.”
Funny how the mention of her ill-fated engagement didn’t bother her in the least anymore. In fact, with each passing day she was more grateful that Mark had cheated on her and they’d ended their relationship. It would have been a disaster.
“Male whore movie star. You’d just met me and you were thinking about having sex with me. Disgusting.”
Tut-tutting, Max shook his head sorrowfully but the grin stayed in place. “Yes, I was contemplating some rather naughty positions while getting quietly drunk. Believe me, if you’d given me even a smidgen of encouragement I would have had you on your boss’s desk.”
That declaration had Carrie laughing. “Paige would have killed you. She loves that desk.” She arched a brow at the man kneeling before her, her earlier shyness forgotten. “What kind of naughty positions?”
He lifted her left leg and pressed a tender kiss to the instep of her foot. Carrie sucked in a breath as heat flowed through her veins at his touch. Max could make her crazy so effortlessly.
“How about this one?” he asked, running his tongue up her calf and sending sparks straight to her clit.
Beautiful but almost feral. That’s how Carrie would have described Max if someone had asked her. Rivulets of water ran down his face and torso as he kissed a path up her leg, stopping to nip at the skin every now and then. His dark hair was plastered to his head and his pupils were blown wide. Each time she gasped or moaned, he’d chuckle darkly and she had to quell the urge to reach out and make horns on top of his head with his hair as if he was Lucifer himself.
“Easy, love.” He picked up her left leg and placed it over his right shoulder. “We’re going to do this slowly and carefully. If at any time you feel pain you’re going to tell me and I will stop immediately. Do you understand?”
Barely. She was floating out in the ether and he’d sent her there with his too-talented mouth.
Slowly so she could object if she needed to, he lifted her injured leg and placed it on his left shoulder, anchoring it in place with his hand on her thigh. His warm breath caressed her slit and somehow her fingers ended up tangled in his hair.
“Relax, my sweet. This will be easier on you if you just let me do all the work.”
She should have thrown herself down on the pavement days ago.